What Do You Want, Annalise?
by Younger Dr. Grey
Summary: She'd said to him, "Don't you ever want to just… stop thinking about everyone else? Don't you ever want to give in?" / prompt: "I just want this."


Two weeks. That's how long Wes lasted staying at Annalise's place. That's how long it took for whatever had been brewing beneath them over the last year to boil up everywhere and leave him with fucking blisters and burn marks and the need to douse himself in a vat of alcohol.

Okay, fine, that's dramatic, but Wes didn't spend the last two weeks living with her only for her to try and push him away just when it seems like something might actually happen between them. He'd been fine at the thought of nothing happening, of never completely knowing one way or another if this was more in his head than an actual fact of attraction, but then she'd come onto him. She'd ran her hands down his chest like she'd done plenty of times before, and then she'd leaned into him. She'd said to him, Don't you ever want to just… stop thinking about everyone else? Don't you ever want to give in?

And he had wanted to.

He still wanted to! But Annalise apparently hadn't been ready for how enthusiastic Wes actually was about giving in. She didn't even say anything until they were in the guest room, her dress bunched up, his shirt lost, and suddenly she'd rolled away. So he'd left.

Not in some spoiled brat kind of way either. Wes left because what's the point in trying to reason with Annalise? What was he supposed to do anyway? Beg her to fuck him? He wasn't the type.

So he went back to his apartment and slammed doors and kicked his bed post. He snatched a shirt from his near empty closet since he hadn't remembered to grab his own before leaving her place. He even got the shirt around his neck before he heard the knock at the door.

"Go away!"

She knocked again. Louder and more frenzied. Called to him, "Just let me in."

"Why!?" He rounded on the door, but the effect wasn't quite right, yelling at the wood instead of yelling at her. He pulled his shirt down and rushed to the door. Threw it open and forced himself not to linger on how small she looked on the other side (— shaken too, kind of ruffled, like she'd followed after him and hadn't bothered to do anything more than grab her coat). "Why follow after me?"

She huffed. "Because you ran away."

"I ran?" He stepped aside, let her enter into the apartment so he could scream as loud as he needed to without alerting the neighbors. She didn't even walk too far into the apartment. Kept her proximity to him and his rage. "I don't understand you, Annalise. One second you're — you're —" he lowered his voice, just a bit, "clawing at my back, and the next you're pushing me away. I don't get it, and I really don't want to play this game."

"It's not a game," she said. "I just… I panicked."

"Why?"

"I never thought that any of this would actually — I never let myself think, but suddenly…." Her hands trembled as her gaze drifted back down to his chest.

He crossed his arms over himself for a moment before dropping them again. If she wanted to see what she was missing out on, then that was her decision. Let her miss it.

He said, "You have the right to do what you want without pressure or-or coercion or whatever, but I also have the right to want to know what's happening. So, what's going on? Are we friends or co-workers? Are you my boss or my teacher or my-my—" What would be the word? "Just, what do you want, Annalise?"

"I don't know."

He stepped up to her. "Yes, you do. You know. What do you want?"

"I don't—"

"What do you want!?"

"This! Us. I-I—" She blinked too much, thought too much, "I have no idea what this is, or what it would be, or how to explain it to anyone else. Let alone myself. But if you would stop screaming and just let me think, I could tell you that I do want this." She stepped forward a little, hands raising up and out to him. "But if we're going to have this, you can't keep running away. We're both far too good at it."

He'd been running practically his whole life. Staying still hadn't even been a real consideration until he got to Middleton and started working with her. If she would have him, he wouldn't go anywhere. But if he wasn't running, then maybe they needed to rethink some things. And he really needed to calm down.

Her hands found his chest again. "So, what do you say?"

His hands wrapped around hers. "I say… we try going a little slower, keep some tensions a little low."

She scoffed. "You think waiting's going to lower the tension?"

He shrugged. "I think taking our time might." And he found the words as he said them. "We keep jumping into cases and crime scenes and now living together. It wouldn't hurt us to slow down and start talking a little more, start thinking, as you said."

She hummed a little. "If we're taking our time, what comes next?" Her lips broke into a smirk. "You taking me on a date?"

"Oh no, you're taking me." He tugged on their clasped hands with a grin. "I want steak and maybe a nice whiskey that doesn't come from your liquor cabinet."

"I'll lock you out of it."

"I'll open it back once you're drunk and sloppy."

"I'm never sloppy."

"Hmm."

She shoved their hands into his chest. "That's not a challenge."

"Hmm, sounds like one to me."


End file.
